Dark Light (The Dark Light Series)(64)

I’m torn. On one hand, I want to press for information now that I know the subject affects him so much. On the other, I want to forget I ever asked him about his family and laugh it off in an attempt to keep this light and casual. I go with my gut. And my heart.

“Are you close with them?” I ask timidly. I stow my brazen nature for his sake and pray that my reticence puts him at ease.

Dorian takes a thoughtful moment to ponder his response. “I used to be,” Dorian mutters.

I hear a hint of emotion in his voice. He abruptly clears his throat as if reading my thoughts. “My parents had high hopes for me. I was bright and strong-willed,” he laughs stiffly. “But I was stubborn. I rebelled and chose not to follow the path they had chosen for me. Didn't want to enter the family business, so to speak. Being the eldest son, that was a huge scandal.” He recalls the memory as if it were decades ago, the nostalgia in his voice resonating through his words. This recollection is real.

“So I take it they’re very old fashioned. What was the family business?” I am genuinely interested.

“Politics.” Dorian says amusingly. I’m intrigued as to why that would be humorous. Must be a family inside joke.

“So you rebelled, and they what? Disowned you?”

“More or less. I was sent away for some years, cut off from everyone and everything I knew,” Dorian replies. “Hence the career change. We take tradition very seriously. In order for me to reclaim my place as their son, I have to become what they want me to be.” His voice is filled with pain, though I know he is trying to make light of the conversation.

A piece of me hurts for Dorian. No child, no matter what path they may have chosen, should be abandoned by the people who should love them the most. When two people come together and make the conscious decision to create a life, they have an obligation to protect and love that child until death. Like Alexander and Natalia did for me. Tradition or not, there is nothing that Dorian could have done to be undeserving of the love and support of his parents. In an attempt to soothe his forlorn thoughts, I turn around to face him, letting his light blue eyes meld into mine. I just want to be his comfort in this moment. I just want to take away his pain. I only wish I knew how to.

I let my hand stroke Dorian’s cheek. It’s smooth with the prickly threat of stubble, leaving tiny tickles on my fingertips. Dorian closes his eyes and nuzzles his face into the touch as if it is his source of sustenance. He inhales the scent of my skin and lets out a serene sigh. He automatically unwinds and looks back up at me with grateful eyes. It’s odd, how I can bring him peace with such a modest gesture. I don’t question it though. I know he needs this; he needs this contact.

“If you could, would you have done things differently?” I ask, unable to come up with anything better. I just want to keep him talking.

Dorian’s mouth twists as if he is thinking. The gesture is adorable and makes him seem youthful and playful. “Yes. No. I can’t say.” He then looks at me, all humor gone from his eyes. “If I did things differently, you would not be here now.”

“Why do you say that?” I whisper. Something about the coldness in his tone stops me up short.

Dorian closes his eyes and shakes his head lightly. When he reopens them, his eyes are no longer icy and grim. “I wouldn’t have come here. We would not have met,” he states simply with a shrug of his shoulders. The man is seriously complex. In the span of this short conversation, he has probably had 10 different mood swings. It’s hard to keep up.

“You never know. It’s a small world,” I say optimistically. I have to believe that everything happens for a reason. If Dorian and I were meant to be here, to share this moment, our paths would have crossed sooner or later.

“Not as small as you think,” he mutters. “Enough. I need you to put your dress back on,” Dorian says sitting up. He reaches for his pants and begins to slide them on.

The fuck? Is he really kicking me out like some cheap hooker? My face heats with rising fury. I sit up straight and snatch my sweaterdress from off of the floor and put it over my head in a huff, visibly annoyed. When I look back up, Dorian is smirking at me as if he is on the verge of laughing.

“What?” I snap coldly, standing up to face him.

“Just wondering what got into you. Besides me of course,” he chuckles though I don’t return his amusement. “Seriously, you have something against dinner?”

Shit. Me and my quick temper. I smooth my dress over my hips, taking extra time to avoid eye contact and try to appear impassive. Here I was, thinking Dorian was dismissing me after sex, and all he wanted to do was take me to dinner. Stupid, stupid, stupid.